A Study in Children
by Norri-chan
Summary: Sherlock's convinced he's done all he could to challenge his mind, but he's proven wrong when John brings home a little visitor. The consulting detective may just have his work cut out for him yet!
1. Chapter 1

_**So, I've been working on this fic for the past few months, and I figured it was about time I posted it. It may seem similar to my Hellboy fic (I still need to work on that one, my apologies) but, I think this one's coming together nicely. Enjoy!**_

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Mrs. Hudson slowly made her way up steps, being careful not to spill the items on the tea tray in her hands. It was mid afternoon on this cold winter's day, and she figured the man in the upstairs flat would like a cup of tea.

After climbing up the last few steps, the older woman walked through the open doorway of the flat.

The tall, lean, and familiar figure of Sherlock Holmes was pacing about the sitting room. His pale emerald eyes were far away, deep in thought. He picked up his violin and bow as he passed his chair, plucking at the strings a few times.

Mrs. Hudson made her way to the kitchen table and nearly dropped her tea tray as Sherlock drew his bow sharply over the neck of his instrument, a measure of abrupt and harsh notes spewing out.

"Sherlock! My goodness, why don't you play something a bit more pleasant, dear?" She exclaimed, carefully setting down the tray and walking back into the sitting room.

Sherlock twirled his bow and removed his violin from his shoulder.

"Not a single case...in two weeks..." He muttered. His face expressionless as he turned and faced the older woman.

Mrs. Hudson blinked and was about to say something, but Sherlock continued.

"How is this possible? How is it there hasn't been at least single murder in _two_ weeks? Why hasn't _anything_ happened?!"

His navy blue night robe swished about his legs as he began to pace once more, abandoning his violin on the chair.

Mrs. Hudson sighed. Sherlock without a case was a sad sight to see. The consulting detective became edgy and his temper shortened tremendously when he didn't have something to challenge his wits.

She watched as Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks, pausing, face scrunched in though then his gaze flitted about the room. He turned in a small circle, his eyes searching for something. He strode over to the kitchen, then back down the hallway.

"Sherlock, what is it? Did you loose something, love?" Mrs. Hudson asked as the man walked past her back into the sitting room.

"Where's John? He's not here. He was supposed to be back from Tesco's by now..." The man briefly glanced out the window then turned around and stood for a moment in thought.

"Oh! That's right, I got a text message from him earlier" Mrs. Hudson replied, bringing her phone out of her cardigan pocket. "Interesting, these text messages are...I only got this mobile last week and I'm still trying to figure out how it all works! Why, back in my day, I remember you had to-"

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock curtly cut her off from rambling.

The elderly woman blinked a few times, glancing at her mobile before clearing her throat and continuing.

"W-Well, he said he had go take care of something urgent, but not to worry because he'd be back around-"

The door downstairs opened, then closed. The sound of footfalls coming up the steps soon echoed through the stairway. After a few moments, a tired looking man wearing a woolen sweater and tan trousers reached the top of the steps.

"Oh there you are John! Is everything alright?" Mrs. Hudson chimed, her face showing a look of pure concern and curiosity.

John gave her a small smile and nodded, then turned to look at Sherlock, who was intently staring back at the blogger.

"John, where did you go? And why didn't you send me a text?" Sherlock took a step closer to his flatmate, his steely eyes focused and piercing.

John sighed. "Sherlock, you hardly use your mobile to begin with and-"

"And what was so urgent that you had to be gone an extra three hours?"

"Sherlock, I had to-"

"And did you even bother getting the milk? You did remember to go to the store right? You're always getting at me for not-"

"SHERLOCK!" John's sleepy brown eyes sharpened with his outburst.

The taller man stopped and straightened, slightly surprised at his flat mate's shout.

John sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, then he went on to explain.

"I got a call from my sister..."

Sherlock's dark brows came together as his head tilted slightly to the left.

"Your sister called? What on earth for? You two haven't been in contact for years." The man's voice trailed off, his pale emerald eyes searching.

John swallowed, glancing down at the floor, then back up at Sherlock.

"Well..."

Just then, Sherlock's attention was drawn to John's right pant leg, just at the knee. A flicker of movement had caught his gaze. He bent down so he was more eye level with it.

There was a tiny hand curled around the man's jeans.

John noticed Sherlock's new switch in focus. He sighed.

"Sherlock...there's someone I'd like you to meet..." He took a small side step, revealing the presence of small child standing behind him.

Now Sherlock's brow knitted even tighter in further confusion.

The girl looked up at the tall man with wide, silvery blue eyes. She moved closer to John, almost instinctively. Her gaze swept through the room, to Mrs. Hudson, to John, then back to Sherlock.

"This...is Lydia..." John began softly, glancing down at the girl clinging to his pant leg. He placed a hand a top of her golden curls.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he studied the girl. Lydia cast her gaze away from the consulting detective after a few moments of being under his intense stare. She shyly shuffled her feet.

"She's uh..." John cleared his throat. "She's my niece..."

Sherlock's gaze shot back to John. "You're what?"

"Oh John dear, I didn't know you had a niece! And what a pretty little thing she is!" gushed Mrs. Hudson, smiling brightly at Lydia.

"I didn't know either..." John muttered.

Sherlock said nothing, returning his focus back to Lydia. He had the concentrated look that he got when he studied others and made deductions.

"I'll explain everything later, but...she'll be staying with us for the next two weeks Sherlock..." John watched Sherlock carefully, not exactly sure how his flatmate would react exactly.

"What?! Why?!" Sherlock threw John a glare, straightening up so he towered over his colleague.

"I told you, I'll explain everything later, but right now she-"

The gurgling sound of an empty stomach rumbled.

The room became silent for a brief moment.

Lydia's face began to glow pink as she looked down at the floor, clutching her middle.

"She hasn't had lunch..." explained John, casting a side glance at Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh the poor dear's hungry!" piped up Mrs. Hudson, taking her cue as she walked up to Lydia and held out her wrinkled hand. "Come on dearie, let's find you something to eat!"

Lydia tentatively took the landlady's hand, and the two made their way to the kitchen.

John and Sherlock watched the pair, then John turned to face his flatmate. He pursed his his lips as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Why on earth is a child going to be staying with us?" Sherlock shot first, his voice dripping with annoyance.

John sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "Not now Sherlock...I'm still trying to wrap my head around this myself..."

Sherlock glanced back in the direction of the kitchen, he could hear Mrs. Hudson talking sweetly to the young girl. He looked back at John. His friend's eyes were a bit unfocused, his shoulders sagged, and he kept taking deep breaths...obviously the man was exhausted.

"Please Sherlock, I'll explain but right now...just..." John trailed off.

Sherlock studied his friend for a few more moments then huffed a sigh.

"Fine...but don't expect me to babysit..." He murmured, then turned and strode over to his chair.

He picked up his violin, plucked a few notes, then brought the instrument to his shoulder. He then let the bow slide over the strings as he stared out the window.

He could hear the slow thuds of John's footsteps make their way into the kitchen to join Mrs. Hudson and Lydia. The older woman asked introductory questions; where Lydia was from, how old she was, but Lydia stayed silent. Sherlock quickly lost interest in the dabble as he began to ponder why the young girl was here at his flat, and if this meant he'd have to childproof the whole place so she wouldn't get into his experiments.

He sighed, continuing his violin playing.

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_**Please rate/review! It's greatly appreciated!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Okie dokie, here's the next chapter! Hope ya'll enjoy it!**_

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"All I'm asking is that while I'm out, you come up and keep on an eye on her." John Watson explained to Mrs. Hudson. They were in the kitchen alone, talking in hushed tones. Lydia had wondered off into the sitting room.

"Well dear, I'm not going to be around all the time, I've got my own plans as well you know!" the elderly landlady replied, eying John meaningfully. "And I know Sherlock hasn't had...much experience around children but, I'm sure he wouldn't be all that bad if he had to babysit from time to time..." She sounded a little too hopeful, and she knew it.

"It's not only that, but I don't want him involving her some sort of..."John waved his hands about. "Experiment!"

Sherlock was curled up on the couch, facing the back cushions and moping, but was also listening in on John and Mrs. Hudson's conversation. He pulled his navy night robe tighter around himself. Him? Babysitting of all things? No, he would have nothing of the sort. He didn't have time for such frivolous things that were so...domestic.

The consulting detective suddenly got the feeling that there was someone watching him. He looked over his shoulder and found little Lydia standing on the opposite side of the coffee table, her big azure eyes staring at him.

He noticed the sticky residue from the remains of a peanut butter and jam sandwich coating the left corner of her lips. She had shed her bright pink windbreaker, reveling a white wool jumper, one that greatly reminded him of one of John's jumpers, a denim pleated skirt accompanied by white tights, and small brown boots. The clothes were worn, the edges of her sleeves and the hem of her skirt were starting to fray, suggesting she hadn't gotten new clothes in well over a year. Her golden curls were neatly combed and controlled, an attempt to make up for the condition her apparel was in. Her eyes, now her eyes watched him, unblinking and unafraid. She was used to seeing strangers, so the awkward shyness most children would experience had completely vanished.

Lydia continued to gaze at the dark haired man, and he back at her.

With a sigh, Sherlock rolled over and faced her.

"Well what do you want?" he grumbled.

She said nothing at first, just continued to look at him. Then her eyes swept through the room, her gaze lingering particularly on the dining table by the windows that was littered with newspapers and files.

Then she faced Sherlock once more.

"Your house is messy..." her little voice simply stated.

Sherlock just stared at the young girl.

"What?"

Lydia pointed at the table. "Your house is messy." She repeated.

"My _flat_ is not messy." Sherlock retorted, raising his chin. Sure it wasn't the tidiest flat, but compared to how it had been before John had moved in, it was very clean.

"No it's not..." the little girl said with a shake of her head, her curls bouncing a little. "The table's all messy, and you should sweep."

Sherlock sat all the way up, eying Lydia as he rested his elbows on his knees. His pale emerald gaze flickered to the table. That wasn't a mess, that was his workspace at the moment. He had been pouring through the headlines for a sign of any possible case. Then his eyes flitted to the hardwood floor. Sure enough, there was a light coating of dust settling over the panels.

The man let out a long, slow breath as he studied the girl in front of him. Usually the state of the flat's flooring never bothered him, but the fact that a child was pointing it out to him and _demanding_ that he fix it? He nearly rolled his eyes.

"My flat is just fine the way it is. And I don't need some silly little girl telling me to sweep my own floors!" He fired back.

Lydia giggled. Her eyes and nose crinkled in delight, a dimple just below her left eye showing.

Sherlock was genuinely startled by this reaction. His dark brows rose as he leaned back into the couch.

"You're funny!" said she, a toothy little smile lighting up her face. She was missing her right front tooth. She turned and skipped back to the kitchen.

The baffled detective narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. He was truly taken aback by Lydia's reaction. It wasn't what he had expected. What a strange little girl...

It was 11:03 p.m. John had retrieved a small red suitcase from downstairs, containing Lydia's clothes and few other personal belongings. He had changed her into her pajamas, then had made a bed out of the couch for her to sleep on.

Sherlock watched Lydia now. The dim light from the streetlights outside cast a slight glow on her young face. Her breathing was slow and even, she was fast asleep, her small fleece blanket with cartoon kittens patterned on it was pulled up under chin, and a tattered stuffed lamb toy was tucked under her arm.

"I promise it will only be for two week Sherlock." John whispered as he walked back from the kitchen with a warm mug of tea in each hand. He held one out to Sherlock, who took it after a moment with a _hmm _in reply.

The two men gazed at the little girl before them. Then John let a small smile break out onto his face.

"She's quite a cheeky lil thing isn't she?" He asked with a light chuckle, talking a sip from his mug.

Sherlock eyed his flatmate, then looked back at Lydia. He didn't say anything, just took a long drink of his tea.

John cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "I still can't believe it...I have a niece...I'm an uncle..." he whispered to himself, still trying to to take in what had happened today.

The two men stood there for a few moments, drinking their warm drinks and listening to the stillness of the flat.

"She called me today...telling me she needed my help." John softly began. "I hadn't talk to her in a long time...but I went to her. Harry didn't say much why, but she has to leave the country for awhile, said she had to go find someone, so she asked if I could look after Lydia..." He took another swig of his tea and continued. "Before Harriet was with Clara, she had a daughter with a man about six years ago, but she kept Lydia a secret for some reason...she never gave me much details...but still..." the tired blogger gazed fondly at the sleeping little girl. "I felt like I needed to help her out all the same..."

John took the last gulp of his tea, then with a sigh, he turned and quietly walked back to the kitchen.

Sherlock could here the slight clank of John setting the mug into the sink, the hear the soft footsteps of his colleague behind him.

"I'm heading to bed Sherlock..." came the whisper. "You should too."

The consulting detective brought his mug to his lips and gave a soft grunt in reply.

John sighed. "Good night Sherlock..." Then he softly made his way up to the upstairs bedroom.

Sherlock glanced over at the flat entrance, then back at Lydia. A moment passed as he finished his tea, then he strode to the kitchen, and deposited his mug into the sink.

With one last glance at the little girl on the couch, Sherlock then retreated to his bedroom, for once, unsure of what tomorrow would bring.

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_**Please rate/review! It's greatly appreciated! :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello darlings! Here it is, the next installment! I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! It definitely makes my day! And thank you to all who reviewed and favorited my Sherlolly one-shot, Candid Repeat! Perhaps I may continue that one...who knows! :D**_

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Sherlock took a deep breath and rolled over, wrapping himself even tighter in the bed sheets. He let out a long exhale, nuzzling his face farther into the pillow. It was around 7:00 AM, judging by the light that fell on his face and that he could sense beneath his eyelids.

A peculiar aroma wafted into his nose. He took another sniff. Eggs...and toast. Well that's odd...John usually just had a mug of coffee or tea in the mornings.

Sherlock let out slow moan as he willed his body upward and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The detective didn't sleep much, but when he did, his body always felt the after-effects of trying to recharge itself.

Stifling a yawn, Sherlock trudged to his bedroom entrance. Adjusting his striped pajama pants, he then grabbed his navy dressing robe and lazily slung it over his shoulders.

As he opened and shuffled out of the bedroom door, the smell of the breakfast food intensified.

Sherlock rubbed his eyes and wandered into the kitchen.

He stopped in his tracks.

John stood at the stove, a frying pan was in front of him resting on a burner. He had his left hand holding the pan handle, while he had a spatula in his right. The slight sizzle of eggs cooking could be heard.

Sherlock's gaze fell to the table, where dear little Lydia was sitting, nibbling on a piece of toast. Her legs were too short to reach the floor, so she swung them about as they dangled. Her hair was a little tangled from sleep and she was still wearing her kitten night gown.

She glanced over at the sleepy detective as he slowly entered the kitchen.

"John...you're making breakfast?" Sherlock didn't mean for that to come out as a question, he was just a bit baffled at seeing his flatmate cooking an actual breakfast meal.

John turned when he heard his name. He looked Sherlock over once, and then nodded.

"Yeah, Lydia was hungry so I had to make her breakfast." the blogger simply stated. He turned a little and gave a small smile to the girl.

Lydia smiled back, her lips covered in toast crumbs.

Sherlock gave a small grunt, then sat himself down in a chair at the table.

John switched off the stove then scraped the eggs onto a plate that already had toast with jam placed onto it.

"Sherlock do you want anything?" John offered.

"Just tea, thanks..." Sherlock mumbled, eying the small child.

"Thought you might say that...good thing I put the kettle on." John fetched a mug from the cupboard, placed a tea bag into it, then poured hot water from the kettle into it. He then grabbed his plate, set the mug down in front of Sherlock, then seated himself across from Lydia.

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from utensils scraping against the dinner plates.

John took one more bite of his eggs, then swallowed. "Sherlock, it's my day at the clinic-"

"I am not going to babysit." Sherlock curtly enunciated each syllable for emphasis, then took a small sip of his tea.

John gave a light sigh. "I'm not asking you to babysit, Mrs. Hudson is downstairs and she'll come and check up on you every so often" He patiently explained. "And I'll text you as well asking how things are going, so you better answer back!"

"Why can't Mrs. Hudson look after her?" Sherlock interjected. He didn't fancy having to deal with the small girl, it seemed too much of a bother for him.

Another small sigh escaped the arm doctor's lips. "Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson has other things to do as well. Besides, Lydia here will be a good girl, right?" He eyed the girl from across the table.

She nodded, her messy gold curls bouncing. She then wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

John smiled, then turned back to Sherlock. "I won't be gone long, I called in for a part-time shift today, so I'll be back in a couple of hours." He stood up and deposited his dishes into the sink, then strode into the living room. "Come on Lydia, let's get you dressed!" John called.

Lydia slid out of her chair and padded after her uncle.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and watched the scene play out. John had knelt in front of Lydia's small suitcase and was pulling out day clothes for the small girl. Lydia stood and was watching him.

"How about...this?" John pulled out a bundle of clothing that Sherlock couldn't quite identify individually, but Lydia seemed to like the choice for she scooped up the clothes, laid them on the coffee table, and then proceeded to undress right there in the living room.

John couldn't help but chuckle as he helped his young niece remove her nightgown, then assist her in stepping into a pair of white tights, followed by a khaki colored pleated skirt, and a red woolen jumper.

"Yoo-hoo!" chimed the voice of Mrs. Hudson, followed by a light rapt on the flat door. The elderly woman shuffled in and spotted Lydia. "Oh darling don't you look lovely today!"

The little girl couldn't help but shyly smile at the landlady's compliment.

John gave a small smile as well. "Good morning Mrs. Hudson."

"Yes, good morning dears!" She pipped, leaning forward to peer into the kitchen to see Sherlock.

The consulting detective give a light grunt in reply, keeping his eyes fixed on Lydia and John. He was mildly surprised that John knew what he was doing. Better yet, he was overall surprised at how natural his friend was with the child. Not to mention his mind began to wonder why on earth his flatmate consider even leaving his niece with Sherlock all together.

"I was about to make my way to Tesco's and I was wondering if little Lydia here would want to come with me" Mrs. Hudson added, walking over to the couch as John began to put shoes on Lydia's feet.

"Oh, well that sounds like a splendid idea!" John replied, inwardly relieved that Mrs. Hudson was wanting to look after his niece while he was gone. He glanced over at Sherlock who had now turned and was sipping his tea. "Sherlock, you should go with them"

Sherlock froze for a moment, then turned to face his flatmate. "I'd rather not..." he grumbled. In truth he had also been relieved that Mrs. Hudson wanted to take Lydia out with her, that way he didn't have to watch after the little girl.

John rose to his feet and handed Mrs. Hudson Lydia's hair brush. The elderly woman began to cheerfully work the morning tangles out of the golden strands.

The army doctor strode over to the detective.

"Sherlock...she's going to be staying with us for awhile, and it'd make it easier on the both of us if you're on good terms with her" John elaborated in a hushed tone. "Can you at least try?"

Sherlock grabbed his mug and stood up. "No." He walked to his armchair and aimlessly flipped through the newspaper on the table stand.

"Oh c'mon! You don't have anything else to do today..."

"John, I'm not going and that's the end of it!"

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Sherlock sighed as he stood outside of 221 Baker Street, his breath coming out as a thin cloud in the cold winter air. He shoved his gloved hands into his longcoat pockets and glanced down at Lydia who stood by his side.

She was wearing the same puffy pink coat from yesterday, accompanied with white mittens, and a knitted yellow hat.

They were waiting for Mrs. Hudson, who was trying to find her misplaced pocketbook.

Sherlock tried to remember exactly how he got pulled into this. Even though he didn't have a case, he would've rather stayed home then walk to the grocery store on this chilly winter day. But John had kept on pestering him and even Mrs. Hudson mentioned that she would need help carrying the groceries back to the flat.

Mrs. Hudson then came out of the building, pulling her cherry red overcoat tighter around herself. "Oooh! It certainly is a bit nippy today!"

Sherlock didn't reply as the trio began their trek to Tesco's.

His landlady began to idly chatter on about how she never really liked the cold and that she would need to reset the thermostat when they got home. Sherlock didn't pay much mind, instead he let his gaze sweep over the street, taking in small details that had changed like he always did. It wasn't until after a few moments of walking that he felt a slight pressure on his right forearm, just above the wrist. He looked down.

Lydia had wrapped her small, mitten-clad hand around the consulting detective's arm, clutching to his sleeve. She glanced up at the tall man with her silvery blue eyes, her head only reached just above his waistline as they continued to walk.

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together in slight confusion. This child was becoming ever so intriguing to him. He had never had much experience around children before, but he was pretty sure none would get this close to him in proximity. And she hardly spoke...Sherlock had assumed that most children her age would babble on and on about who knows what, but not Lydia.

The detective pressed his lips together as he redirected his focus back to the sidewalk.

"Oh Sherlock, isn't that sweet of you!" Mrs. Hudson suddenly cooed, casting the pair an affectionate glance.

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

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**_Please rate/review!_**


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